We drive to BWI and breeze through luggage deposit and security and walk miles to our gate where we are told a half hour before departure time that boarding will be delayed a half hour. Boarding begins 45 minutes later and after all 280 of us have been sitting in our unassigned Southwest seats for 20 minutes, we’re told our departure is delayed due to baggage loading issues. The cockpit door is finally closed and bolted an hour after our schedules departure time, and our 737 MAX — a plane, we remember, that has some history — lifts into the air as gently as a feather, flies over Helene’s remnants and deposits us at Albuquerque’s airport.
David’s bag is third into the carousel and we wait about a half hour for Cynthia’s bag to appear, and walk to the designated meeting point for Michael Moore to waft us straight north, past Sandia Peak, to Santa Fe, where we meet Sarah Hope to get take-out for dinner.
Beautiful house on a winding road beside an escarpment, with a meandering arroyo out back and low forested hills all around. Large garden with several trees and paths winding through shrubs and a grill in the shape of an almost life-size Texas longhorn stretch in front of the covered front porch with L-shaped sofa beside a dining table for eight. Inside: Large open space with a wall of windows overlooking the arroyo out back, and our bedroom is in our own wing.

We dine outside in perfect weather with heaters on low, and go to bed where visions of coyotes and hummingbirds dance in our heads.

Day 2 Sunday

David wakes long before Cynthia and has coffee with Michael on the back deck overlooking the arroyo, watching hummingbirds flutter at a feeder hanging from a post as Michael tells him the names of the various mountains and hills in the near and far distances. Cynthia sleeps on. Sara Hope joins Michael and me and we three go for a short walk around the neighborhood, looking at the houses. David feels the altitude and is surprised to be short of breath walking up some of the hills.

Cynthia joins us after we return and we load into a car and drive up a mountain to the Aspen Viewpoint, where we park with a few hundred other cars and walk along the road, looking at entire hillsides of aspen groves in shades that run the gamut between deep green, brilliant yellow, pistachio green, and rust red. Walk on a dirt trail to admire different mountain sides with more extensive aspen groves. Return to the car and drive to Santa Fe’s central square where we have late, late lunch outdoors at La Fonda. David skips the impossible-to-eat-such-large-serving dishes and makes do with a “legendary margarita.”

Intending to join a picnic with live music at a field up Canyon Road, we are disappointed to find the event cancelled. We repair to a corner of their garden for cocktails, waiting to cross the road to see the sunset before driving to dinner.